


Sing to Me, I Know You're There

by lostinwriting23



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beginnings, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mirror Non-Sex, Singing, Touching, but like the soft gentle kind, everyone else is just mentioned, it's all real soft and gay kids, the author is back on their bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinwriting23/pseuds/lostinwriting23
Summary: "As much as things have been changing between them, Beau muses sleepily, the lack of actual explicit conversations hasn’t been one of them."Yasha and Beau continue to drift further into each other's orbits. Beau puts Tongue of Sun and Moon to use. Yasha moves further into her music therapy.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 29
Kudos: 197





	Sing to Me, I Know You're There

**Author's Note:**

> YO! Hello! I've missed CR so much so to celebrate that they're back, have a real soft, real gay fic that came out of a couple ridiculously, equally soft, gay conversations with my friends! Yes I know the title is from that Demi Lovato song but it's the thing that fits best. It's better than the first idea I had that was more with Phantom of the Opera. (Angel of Music). Also, lol I wrote the song Yasha sings, which never happens so? Yep!  
> Let me know your thoughts!  
> Hope you enjoy! Take care of yourselves my sweets!  
> <3  
> M

As much as things have been changing between them, Beau muses sleepily, the lack of actual explicit conversations hasn’t been one of them. Sure, there’s been a glancing touch here, a soft look exchanged there, an ever frequent “Yasha! Yasha, are you watching?” during battle, holding hands at Molly’s grave and, of course, the fucking magical godsdamn angel wing flight but…

This had been a little bit more of a push than she intended. Yasha was taking first watch, the rest of the Nein crammed into the bubble since Caleb unable to cast their magical tower for the night. Beau had been up too, flipping through old notebooks and marking important sections for further perusal later and trying her level best _not_ to get distracted by the occasional brush of Yasha’s shoulders against hers. There’d been a mounting ache of her neck and pounding in her temples. She wasn’t even sure when she decided to lay down.

  
All she knew was one minute she was sitting upright and the next she was laying with her head in Yasha’s lap, notebook held up high over her face. Yasha stiffened and Beau froze.

“Uh… Sorry. Is this… okay?”

“Of course.” Beau couldn’t bring herself to look around her book, up into Yasha’s face, but just hearing her voice… she could swear Yasha was smiling.

“It’s just. I was starting to get a headache and my neck was getting-”

“Beau, it’s fine. Really. I was going to offer but… I didn’t want to … presume anything.”

Heat had flashed up Beau’s neck, settling in her cheeks and she fumbled around her words before tonguing them into the right order and croaking out, “You can presume anything you want to, Yash.”

There had been a quiet huff above her and Beau was still looking at her own hurried hand writing and _oh shit._

She’d stared up at her book for several moments too long without retaining any of what was written there. Suddenly, Yasha’s hand was skating over her hair.

“You mentioned your head hurting. Maybe… maybe it would help if you took your hair down?”

Beau’s mouth felt like a desert and she barely hummed back a response.

“May I?” She’d found the end of the ribbon and-

“Yeah, if… if you want to. That might be nice.”

Now, rolled on her side, with Yasha’s hands gently combing through her hair and her eyes closing of their own volition, Beau’s pretty pleased with how her unintentional gamble paid off. The muscles of her arms go lax and the book falls closed in her hands. Her brain goes to near meditative static as Yasha plays with her hair.

It goes on for a while and Beau’s nearly dropped off to sleep when the humming starts. Low and soft at first, to the point that Beau wonders if she’s imagining it. Then it turns, pure and sweet and _words_ that definitely aren’t Common but Beau can still comprehend them. _That’s new._

They sound like wind chimes and closer to prayers than music and Beau has never considered herself to be a religious woman but the sound is nearly enough to make her change her mind. It isn’t until the stroking of the fingers in her hair times up with the beat of the song that Beau puts together that the music is Yasha. Yasha is singing to her.

Heart hammering and terrified to move and make Yasha stop, Beau listens.

_“The dark will pass. The sun will come. The day will break. And demons run. You rise from sleep, shake your fists and say, “Flee if you want. There’ll be hell to pay.” The light’s in you. The monsters me. Can I hold you still? Can I stay with you, please?”_

_Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit._ Beau’s pretty sure her brain breaks a little as she listens to Yasha start the song over again. It’s heartbreaking in a beautiful sort of way and feels too personal, like Beau wasn’t meant to hear it. But Yasha’s still humming and combing Beau’s hair and… really, what’s the harm in letting it happen for a little while longer?

Beau’s asleep by the fourth run-through of the song.

XXX

The next time it happens is only a couple days later. Beau doesn’t even try for pretext this time. Yasha’s taking second watch after her, still in the bubble after they had to fight one of those stupid Remorhaz things again and Caleb had to use his strongest spells to pull Beau out of its mouth _again._ Beau settles down at the center of the group with Caleb and Veth on one side. Jester has her tail wrapped around Beau’s left leg and her hand curled into the crook of Fjord’s arm on the other side. Caduceus is stretched out around them, crusted blood flecks in his pink hair, head at Fjord’s hip, body sloping around their legs.

Beau drops her head into Yasha’s lap again.

“Still okay?” She murmurs, only half joking and braver than she’s felt in a while. _Or maybe it’s blood loss, who can tell._

“Oh. Yes.” There are fingers around the ribbon of Beau’s hair and a gentle tug, “Is…”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” Beau’s breathless again and she closes her eyes, even though her skin is buzzing as Yasha begins to brush through her hair. It’s painfully tender again and Beau strong arms herself into a half meditative state, eager to feign sleep convincingly enough that- _yes._

Yasha’s low, honeyed voice drips out, quiet and slow, _“The dark will pass. The sun will come. The day will break. And demons run. You rise from sleep, shake your fists and say, “Flee if you want. There’ll be hell to pay.” The light’s in you. The monsters me. Can I hold you still? Can I stay with you, please?”_

Beau feels her ribs tighten hearing it again. This time ,Beau forces herself to stay awake as Yasha’s singing comes in and out of hums, listen to the lyrics in the language that isn’t one she ought to know but does, imbed the melody in her memory. She can already feel herself trying to hum along but _no, then she’ll know. Then she’ll stop._ Which, yes, maybe it is a little sneaky but…

It’s nice. Laying with her head in Yasha’s lap, feeling fingers in her hair, and the song… It makes her feel warm and safe and nice and no one can fault her for wanting to keep that going just a little bit longer. _Nobody needs to know._

XXX

_Rain pours._

Why is it always raining at Molly’s grave? _Beau thinks, trying to wipe her face on whatever dry bit of fabric she can find but it’s a lost cause._

_No one’s moving closer. Jester is stock still, silent tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. Fjord is looking anywhere but the stick, Caleb and Veth with their heads bowed together over a book, a few feet away. Caduceus studies the marker with more interest than Beau thought even he could show and Yasha… Yasha’s hand is completely stiff in hers._

_Embarrassed, Beau wrenches her hand away and, to escape what feels strikingly similar to a rejection, starts forward. If none of the rest of them are going to pay their respects, she sure as hell is. The wind whips raindrops into her face and she takes a deep breath before reaching out to wrap a hand around the grave marker._

_“Hey, Mol-”_

_The ground erupts in a spray of dirt and ice cold hands clasp around her ankles as the earth beneath her feet gave way. Down, down, down, and darkness. She’s trapped, the wet mud and clay pressing in on both sides, she can’t move her arms, her legs and there’s something hot and rotting in front of-_

_A pair of red eyes flash open, shining brighter than they ever had in life, throwing his horns into relief, the horrible, sunken, decaying mask of his face starkly visible._

_“Molly?” She whispers, and as she opens her mouth, dirt pours in._

_“Hello, Unpleasant One,” But his voice isn’t the smooth lilt she expects. It’s a vicious, rasping snarl like when he’d distract people they were fighting. An Infernal growl that grates into her ears like shards of glass and she shakes her head against it._

_“What are you doing down here? Jester saw you, she saw you with Kree in the snow and-” She tries to keep going, wants to get to the bottom of this but the dirt keeps filling her mouth, down her throat and suddenly, violently, his hand knots in the back of her hair as he swoops closer._

_“I’ve been waiting for MONTHS!” He screams and Beau’s trapped, frozen and angry and so godsdamn sad and, for the first time in a while,_ scared _._

_He forces her face back above the ground and it would be a relief if the rain weren’t more like waves crashing. Blinking hard and spitting, Beau can just barely see the retreating forms of her friends, walking away._ They’re leaving. _None of them seem to have even noticed she’s gone._

_Fear tears into her chest like claws. Her throat constricts around Yasha’s name. Jester’s. Fjord, Caleb, any of them, it’s like she’s choking around them and when she tries to take a breath in, all she gets is rain water and mud and this must be drowning. This must be_ dying.

_“Leaving me was easy. Why would you be any different?” he snarls and she wants to turn and hit him, remind him exactly how much it killed them to leave him there, alone and bloody and the first one of_ theirs _to be taken and they weren’t even all there to see him. She can’t though. Dirt and water and the scent of rot are filling her chest and she can’t get around it._

_His nails dig into the tattoo at the back of her neck and she can feel the blood seeping, the tiny flecks of jade ripping and_ fuck you, dad _, jade never did anything to protect anyone._

_“Molly, I’m sorry-”_

_“Molly died.” He hisses, violent and gnashing in her ear and she can_ smell _the death and putrefaction, it’s working down through all her sense and maybe she’s immune to poison but this is something different entirely. His fingers are jagged with bone and the flesh begins to slough off, down the back of her neck and it’s so godsdamn cold._

_“I am nothing but a forgotten memory and you were nothing to me. A momentary distraction. I am Lucien. I am Nonagon. I am-”_

“Molly, Molly. No, you’re Molly!”

Beau shoots upright at her desk in the library, gasping and clawing at her chest. The chair topples and Beau splays on the stone floor, skittering backwards until she hits one of the shelves. There’s light and solid ground and it’s warm and dry but Beau’s eyes are still swimming with rain and hillsides and drowning and _leaving._

Someone appears in front of her, a low, careful voice that takes her a moment to catch up to.

“Beau.”

_I’m good._ She tries to say but it sticks to the back of her tongue and _fuck fuck fuck._

“I’m going to touch you, okay? Just nod if that’s okay?” Yasha’s hands appear in her field of vision and _I’m not having a fucking panic attack, I know it was just a dream. Get it together._ But Beau bobs her head up and down just the same and Yasha’s large warm hands settle, one against her cheek, the other on her shoulder, erasing the feeling of claws and bones and decomposition.

The chill from the endless blizzard of Eisselcross hasn’t seeped from her bones yet, even though they came in from the cold hours ago and she’d fallen asleep by the fire of the library. It’s still strangely painful and exhausting and she’s shaking against it, not just the nightmare. _Just a nightmare, just a bad dream, fucking breathe, dumbass._ Yasha’s thumb brushes her face, only barely discernable from the vibrating under her skin and Beau leans into it, trying to pinpoint it exactly.

Yasha clears her throat gently and then the same song from before begins, still in the language like glitter in the air. Unbidden, Beau’s lips open and she starts to wheeze out the melody. A half-forgotten habit from a childhood where the only gentle voice was her own and eventually even that went away.

Yasha pauses her singing long enough for Beau to worry she’s ruined something again, but she picks up again easily enough and Beau’s gentle harmony rasps out to match. Even around her questionable pronunciation and complete lack of the correct accent, it still sounds pretty. They sound pretty together.

The song ends and Yasha doesn’t start it again like she usually does. Warmth trickles back into Beau’s body as the static buzz of panic fade. She brings her hand up to touch Yasha’s against her cheek and draws in another ragged breath before she can finally speak.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” It’s all she can manage. There’s still mud and decay in her lungs and even though her breathing is easier and Yasha is there, she can still feel it.

“Why are you apologizing?” Yasha sits back on her heels and ducks until Beau meets her eyes.  
  


“Molly… I mean. He was your best friend. And… I let him die and now you’re like. Comforting me over a stupid fucking dream and that’s super shitty and-”

“There are so many things I want to contradict that you just said and I don’t know which one to start with.”

“And the song, I’m sorry I-”

“Beau, stop. Please.” Beau snaps her mouth shut and swallows hard again. Her chest still hurts but it’s getting easier to regulate her breaths.

“You have nothing to apologize for. None of what happened to Mollymauk was or will be your fault. He made his own choices and just because you had to watch the consequence of them does not make you responsible.”

Beau wants to protest because it _feels_ like it’s on her, at least a little bit, but Yasha’s looking at her so softly and still touching her face, her arms and the heat of the fire is so nice… _Gods, I’m so exhausted._ It’s out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even speaking.

Yasha smiles softly, “Come on then, let’s get you to bed.”

Her thumb strokes Beau’s cheek one more time before she stands, holding out a hand to Beau to help her up. Beau takes it and squeezes once she’s vertical, before leaning over to pick up the chair. Yasha starts organizing Beau’s notebooks (and with a thrill, Beau notices it’s the way she likes them) and stacks them in her arms.

Beau starts to reach out for the books and Yasha, seeing the movement, shifts to tuck the books under her other arm and reaches for Beau with her, now empty, closer hand.

“Oh, that’s not what I-” Yasha’s fingers curl easily to mesh with Beau’s and the words die in her throat.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Yasha doesn’t answer, just squeezes her fingers and leads them to the center of the tower. She doesn’t let go even as they begin to rise. They pass the dining room and kitchens and Yasha is still holding her hand. They pass Caduceus’ room and Yasha’s and Yasha is still holding her hand. They land on the sixth floor and close the portal in the floor and Yasha is still holding her hand.

Beau pauses in front of her door but Yasha gently pulls her forward, opening the door only a little awkwardly with the books under her arm and leading the way through the sitting room into the dojo/office. She deposits the notebooks on the desk and finally turns to Beau.

“I- Can I … hang out for a little bit?”

Beau gapes at her, tongue glued to the roof of her mouth and she can feel the second Yasha’s confidence starts to wane. Beau holds on a little tighter, even as Yasha begins to pull away.

“I understand if-. Of course. You already said you were tired and-”

“Wait, no, yeah, please. Hang out. With me. Here.” _Smooth, Beauregard._ “We can go back in the sitting room or the floor in here or…” she gestures vaguely toward the bedroom because she already started down that road and why-

The moment hangs briefly and then Yasha’s fingers seat themselves back between Beau’s and she tugs them forward, the rest of the way through to Beau’s bedroom. The light is dim, between the lantern burning low near the bath and another stained-glass window at the far end, mimicking the nighttime skyline of Zadash from the windows of the Cobalt Soul.

Yasha shuts the door behind them and breaks from Beau gently, trailing their hands apart to wander over near the bed. Beau’s mouth goes dry at the memory of _“That’s gonna be useful,”_ and she hastily busies herself pulling the wraps off her hand and pretending her face isn’t hot. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Yasha pulls the sash to expose the mirror and then sits down on the bed.

She takes more time than necessary stowing her hand wraps away in the bureau next to the bathtub and then heaves in a breath before turning to the bed. Yasha’s laid out along one side, a hand behind her head in the pillows. Her toes are wiggling in her socks as she situates herself, knees bent, under the mirror. It’s painfully cute, not a common look for Yasha and Beau feels addicted to it already. She looks… at ease. The thought sends another wave of feeling through Beau that she tries _very_ hard not to name. But it’s getting more difficult to ignore.

For something else to do, Beau pulls the ribbon out of her hair and leaves it next to her wraps, using both hands to comb through the worst of the tangles from the day. It doesn’t take long; her hair had been protected from the worst of the wind by her hood and finally there nothing else to do.

Beau circles around to the other side of the bed and flings herself down, sighing in relief as she situates herself on her back. She folds her hands over her stomach and props up her knees too before turning her eyes to the mirror above.

Yasha is already watching her in it, a small smile on her lips that grows wider as Beau meets her gaze. Beau does her best to return it and scoots her way a little closer to the center of the bed.

They watch one another in the mirror for a long time. No words; for once, Beau doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence between them. She’s content to let the air settle between them, charged though it may be.

Finally, Yasha hums out a sigh and breaks their mirror eye contact.

“Your singing is very pretty.”

Beau blanches, “Aw jeez. It’s… I sang a lot as a kid.”

“In like. A choir or something?”  
  


Beau snorts, “No, no, just. My mom made me take piano lessons for a while and I hated it. But I like the music. The noise. There wasn’t much of that in our house. Or if I made noise, it wasn’t the right kind of noise so…”

“Ah.” Yasha’s voice takes on a hard edge and Beau remembers the subtle threatening Yasha did when they left Kamordah.

Her breathing hitches again, “I didn’t ever do it like. In front of people or anything, it was mostly just for me.”

Yasha’s voice softens again and she looks to mirror Beau again, “I would like to hear more of it some time.”

“Hmm.” Beau hums because she can’t imagine doing it intentionally for anyone. But for Yasha… maybe.

Beau watches as Yasha’s hand in the mirror as it slowly slides across the blankets to rest at the middle, palm up slightly. An invitation. Heart in her throat, Beau lets herself reach back, sliding her palm under Yasha’s instead of over. Yasha flips her hand over easily and tangles their fingers together again, her thumb skating along the side of Beau’s index finger in a way that makes the breath disappear from her lungs.

Beau stares at their hands in the reflection, stark white and deep brown tangled together on the sheets in the half-light of the room and… _Gods_ , it’s a pretty sight. Yasha is taking the lead on this. This is all up to her. And she’s choosing to reach out for Beau again and again. A tiny part of Beau wants to push for more but… _No. You did enough before. Almost ruined it before it started. Even just this is basically a miracle._ But she needs something else to focus on before the wave of this _feeling_ swallows her hole and she sucks in a breath.

Her voice is dry when she opens her mouth again, “What’s that song from?” _Deflection, deflection, deflection,_ “From what you’ve said, it doesn’t seem like your tribe was much for singing or…”

“I… ah. I think I wrote it?” Yasha looks away again, tugging at the bottom of her tunic.

“You think?” Part of Beau want to roll over, look at Yasha properly but it feels like that would shatter something, somehow. They’re just barely in this holding pattern of being okay and that would… change things. She’s not sure if it would be good or bad. For now, the mirror is safe.

Yasha sighs, “There were times… When I was under Obann’s control that I would come to for a few seconds. Not enough to… make a difference,” Her voice bites a little bitter and Beau squeezes her hand, and waits.

A deep breath then, “There were times it seemed like I was seeing with my own eyes though. Could get enough control to… to pull away for a moment or write something from myself to me later. And I remember opening my notebook and finding it kind of scribbled down.”

“Wow.” Beau breathes. Yasha’s strength, her heart, her will to continue never ceases to amaze Beau and to hear about this time, when they thought Yasha had been lost to them? It’s enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Yasha’s thumb is still sweeping over Beau’s knuckles and palm and fingers and she’s watching their hands too, “And it just kind of took root in my head, I guess?”

Beau swallows hard again, this time around the lump that’s formed in her throat, “Do you remember when?”

“I… think it was after we… when we all ran into each other at that huge tree.”

“The wraithroot?”  
  


“Yes, that one.” Yasha shifts onto her side, closer. Beau watches the reflection in the mirror do it, the imagined barrier now broken but Beau can’t bring herself to roll too, not yet, when- “Seeing you again. All of you. It… brought me back to myself. Just a little bit. Not enough to-”

“Hey,” It’s like a switch flips and Beau cuts her off, rolling to her side as well and staring up into Yasha’s eyes, “If I don’t get to blame myself for Molly, you don’t get to blame yourself for… for any of that.”

  
Yasha doesn’t answer but her other hand drifts across the distance between them. Beau knows where it’s going but her skin still sparks as Yasha runs her thumb along the raised, jagged scar tissue that bisects the front of Beau’s body.

“That’s not your fault either. You weren’t you.” Beau’s hand comes up of her own volition and covers Yasha’s, pulling her hand away gently, “We got you back. That’s all that matters.”

Yasha hums, soft and low, scooting closer to the center of the bed until their knees touch. Beau glances up at the mirror in her periphery, watches them close the distance in tandem, sees the two of them curled in toward each other like parenthesis around their hands and…

“We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” She rasps, “I’m sorry we couldn’t last time but you’re not going anywhere unless you want to.”

Yasha hums and closes her eyes, still holding tightly to both of Beau’s hands, “Thank you Beau.”

They’re quiet for a moment as Yasha breathes deeply. In the silence, Beau takes her in. The beads in her hair, the dark braids and, just at the roots, bits of white beginning to peak through again like the first sprouts of spring. _Rebirth._

“You’re not going anywhere either,” Yasha’s eyes flutter open and Beau forces herself not to jump in surprise as she continues, “No one is taking you away from me. From us. Not your father. Not some hag in the woods. Not Molly. Not yourself.”

As if to punctuate her exact meaning, Yasha brings their clasped hands up to her mouth and, one at a time, carefully presses her lips against the backs of both Beau’s palms. Beau’s chest swoops and she can’t seem to breathe right, but in a pleasant way. _This has to be what dying feels like… honestly it’s a lot like flying._

Beau stutters for something to say, fails. All she can do is open and close her mouth until Yasha’s gentle laughter brings her back to herself.

“How long have you known what I was singing to you?” There’s nothing offended or accusatory in Yasha’s voice. In fact, she seems amused.

Shakily, Beau swallows, “Since the first time. My… dope Monk shit part 212 is apparently I can understand everything now? All languages? And…”

“Ah…” Yasha’s cheeks tinge pink and in the yellow light of the lantern, it’s one of the prettiest things Beau has ever seen, “So you’ve known that I-”

“I… didn’t want to assume,” Beau’s pretty sure she can’t handle however Yasha’s going to end that sentence but she’s heard and felt and seen enough to be nearly positive that she knows the direction it’s going and surely things can’t be _this_ good, smack in the middle of things falling apart.

Beau swallows around the knot of hope in her throat and babbles, “It’s just a song and you’re nice and. I also didn’t wanna push, you know. Because of Zuala and I respect that and-”

“Beau?” Yasha cuts her off, a hand under her chin, tilting her head so their eyes meet in the dim light from the stain glass.

“Yeah.” _She’s so close. She’s too close. Oh gods._

“You can presume anything you want to.”

They meet somewhere in the middle, Beau’s not even sure who started moving first. All she knows is that Yasha’s kissing her, in her bed, in a godsdamn magical tower made by her best friend, and a _family_ she never thought she’d have is sleeping safely in rooms around them and _if only 16 year old me knew._

Beau untangles her hand from Yasha’s in order to bring them both up to weave into Yasha’s hair and as she does, Yasha rolls further, settles herself over top of Beau, one hand propping herself up, the other wrapped around her waist, thumb resting back over the scar. Beau gasps at the contact and Yasha deepens the kiss. Beau can feel her grinning against her mouth and she’s pretty sure she’s smiling like an idiot too.

Yasha pulls back abruptly, eyes wide, breathing about as hard as Beau is and… _She really looks like a fucking angel,_ Beau thinks, hands trailing down Yasha’s cheeks to her shoulders, completely unwilling to stop touching her now that she’s started.

“This is okay, right?” Yasha asks, her thumb stroking against Beau’s abs in an _incredibly_ distracting manner that almost derails Beau completely.

“This, like…”

“The kissing and me… here?” Yasha’s blushing again and she looks like she wants to move so Beau sits up just enough to kiss her way down the column of Yasha’s neck, moving her hair back over her shoulder.

“Hell yes.”

“Good,” Yasha murmurs, tilting her head back to give Beau space. 

“You’re good too?” She asks, pulling back from the very inviting spot just above Yasha’s collarbone.  
  
“So very good.” Yasha chuckles, wrapping her arms around Beau’s shoulder and pulling her into a hug. 

Beau laughs too, tucking her face up against Yasha’s chest and sighing. 

“I’m still going to follow your lead on… pretty much everything going forward,” Beau murmurs, laying back down and rolling them to the side again so she and Yasha can look at each other on a level.  
  
“Thank you for… being patient Beau.” Yasha’s hand comes up to cup her cheek and Beau lets herself give in to the impulse to turn, kiss her palm. The freedom is exhilarating. 

“We’ve got so much time. And like, kissing you is like. The hottest, best thing that’s happened to me in...I don’t know how long.” 

Yasha huffs but the sobers a little, “Maybe… maybe just kissing tonight.”

“More than I could have ever hoped for, honestly.”

“Just because there’s lots to do tomorrow and we need you to be rested to solve all our mysteries and we need to find Mollymauk and-”

“Yash,” Beau cuts her off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “We have time. There’s literally no reason to rush or even ever go past this.”

“But I want to.”

“Okay good, because me too.”

“But later.”

“Like I said,” Beau tries to soothe her again, nudging even closer, “We’ve got time.”

Yasha sighs, throws her arm over Beau’s waist, and then her voice drops, “I’ll tell you one thing though.”

Beau freezes at the shift in tone, “What?”

“Someday, we are going to make damn good use of that mirror.”


End file.
